


Chet & Bliss

by tbhyourelame



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M, Rhyming, Short Story, i wrote this at 3am, idk - Freeform, scott is a cute shy customer, so much fluff tbh, stiles owns a shop, written like a poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:53:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tbhyourelame/pseuds/tbhyourelame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski owns a warm little coffee shop in a warm little town. He's happy, he's bright. There's no reason not to smile, right?</p><p>Scott McCall owns a shitty apartment in the same crummy town. He's not as happy, too quiet, too dull. Why would he want to smile, anyway?</p><p>--</p><p>Or, Scott happens to be a depressed daily customer in the happiest coffee shop on Earth, and Stiles is sure to bring a little something else into his dreary world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chet & Bliss

Down on the corner of Chet and Bliss,

A coffee shop lies among the midst.

With its striped little awning

and wooden box chairs

a boy named Stiles lives right upstairs.

When the clock chimes six

he's into the mix,

mugs and saucers tossed all around,

the best barista in the whole town.

But there's another boy

who's new to the shop

who sits in the corner

and never seems to talk.

Cup after cup,

day by day,

Stiles happiness fades away.

Why isn't the boy smiling? Why is he upset?

No one's ever unhappy in the shop on Chet.

So Stiles sits down,

in that one empty chair,

and gives him a smile,

none to compare.

The boy looks up,

a light forming in his eyes,

drinking his coffee,

next to the sunrise.

Day after day,

each dollar and a dime,

Stiles learns more about the stranger,

who now smiles all the time.

It becomes a routine,

a clock counting hours,

the time evergreen,

amongst the city of towers.

And when the rain blurs the window,

and the boy's eyes meet the floor,

Stiles sits closer and listens,

because thats what hes for.

Scott is the boy,

with the beautiful smile,

with those wondrous eyes,

that see for a mile.

Their happiness,

it seems,

is none to compare,

their laughter and life,

crowding the air.

It's in this bliss,

the frenzy that's bright,

that Stiles sees Scott,

in a very different light.

They sit a bit closer,

with each passing day,

the contact feeling warmer,

washing all their pain away.

But then comes a day,

when Stiles isn't around,

and the shop is shut down,

no sight of him anywhere

in their small boring town.

Scott waits in the mornings,

for the lights to turn on,

and the coffee to start brewing,

his problems long gone.

But it never comes,

that needed relief,

and he is stuck alone,

on the plain old Chet street.

Day after day,

week after week,

Scott waits for his sunshine,

but there’s not even a peep.

His hope starts to fade,

eyes onto the floor,

no longer smiling,

silent once more.

Because where was Stiles? Where did he go?

He simply disappeared. Does anyone know?

And Scott misses the shop,

the people, the seats,

he misses the sound,

of the hectic shop's creaks.

He misses his corner,

where he'd watch the sun rise,

its rays lighting the counter,

and all the homemade pies.

But now it was wrecked.

It was dark and too old.

The sign began to rot,

its letters began to fold.

"I don't want to leave,"

Stiles used to say,

"I'd rather sit here; talk to you all day."

But _oh_ , how he left,

the building now dull,

and it was near a ghost town,

not a single happy soul.

Who knew it was Stiles,

with his bright eyes

and smiles,

who brought together the people,

who were scattered for miles.

It hurt to forget him,

it hurt to move on,

but in half a year's time,

Scott's feelings were gone.

He forgot Stiles eyes,

his smile, his laugh,

he forgot his sweet pies,

his coffee, his snacks.

But then there was a day,

Scott took the wrong turn,

and he entered a street,

that made his stomach churn.

After a year and three quarters,

Chet and Bliss were alive,

people on all corners,

eyes bright and spirits high.

His eyes found their way,

to this old coffee shop,

with its little striped awning,

and chairs wooden on top.

It's doors were wide open,

music filling the streets,

all were laughing,

dining in the sweets.

It was _alive_ ,

repainted and bright,

bursting with color,

the aroma a delight.

And Scott could see,

now the age of twenty three,

that Stiles was in the middle,

like the piece to a riddle.

His hands were full and busy,

plates and mugs flying everywhere,

his laughter and thanks,

heard swirling through the air.

The coffee shop was back.

Its arms outstretched wide.

And it felt like a home.

And Scott didn't know why.

Because wasn't it supposed to hurt?

To see Stiles there?

Alive, happy, without Scott anywhere?

And maybe it did.

And maybe that’s why

he turned on his feet,

refusing to cry.

For the next two days,

Scott barely slept,

emotions a drowning haze,

losing the calm he had kept.

He was excited and hurt,

blighted and curt,

unable to think,

desperate for a drink.

But finally,

 _finally_ ,

he put his feet to the floor,

breathed a bit deeper,

and headed out the door.

His nerves were on edge

as he walked an old trail

right to the street’s ledge,

feeling no avail.

The coffee shop was full,

a bustling heat,

anything but dull,

people waiting for a treat.

The music was loud.

Perhaps a bit too much.

But that's how Stiles always liked it.

It was his touch.

And Scott felt a bit sick,

stepping up to those doors,

his heart a hammering tick,

feeling a little something more.

He squeezed through the people,

and into the crowded shop,

but when he saw Stiles,

he felt his heart stop.

Because there he stood,

as the clock chimed seven,

looking calm as he should,

like an angel from heaven.

He had a towel over one shoulder,

apron on his waist,

immersed in the register,

humming fast paced.

He was scribbling down,

focused on the sound,

oblivious to the world,

looking almost furled.

And Scott held his breath,

unable to speak,

because _there was the boy_ ,

that had made him so weak.

As if awoken from a dream,

Stiles looked up with light eyes,

a smile plastered on his seams,

so innocent, so wise.

But then he saw Scott.

And his demeanor changed.

The room grew hot.

And it felt so deranged.

Stiles’ smile fell,

his pen clattering to the floor,

as if he'd seen hell,

not caring for the register anymore.

And from across the room,

Scott held his stare,

unable to move,

just standing there.

Stiles stared at the boy,

who used to sit in his shop,

laugh at his jokes,

and make the world stop.

And Scott stared at the boy,

who used to give him a mug,

ask about his day,

and smile into a hug.

But it had been too long,

almost two years apart,

like some crappy love song,

it wasn't the same heart.

But _Stiles_ , oh Stiles,

he didn't know what to do.

Because was Scott even real?

He had no clue.

He never, ever, _ever_ forgot

Scott's face or his name

or his special spot.

He kept that table empty,

all hours of the clock,

hoping that maybe,

he'd come back to talk.

But as they stood there,

too many people in the way,

Scott's heart began deflating,

regretting this day.

Because Stiles was frozen.

Did he not care?

About the past, about him?

Or anyone, anywhere?

People began blocking his view,

demanding to be served,

as if this was nothing new.

Stiles jumped with a start,

pulling them apart,

pushing forward past the plates,

but it was too late.

Scott had vanished.

Was he ever there?

Did Stiles imagine him, out of thin air?

Heart shattering on the floor,

he turned away,

fake smiling once more.

He had been happy

content with his life

living off coffee

pain a faraway knife.

But like a blow to the knees,

his world crashed in a snap,

like on an edge of a cliff,

only needing a tap.

Three days after,

he declared himself insane,

because why would Scott come back?

So he pushed it away. Again.

And then a week went by,

as he was closing up shop,

humming an old chipper tune,

the music long been at a stop.

He was sweeping up the floor,

back facing the door,

when the bell chimed through the lack,

and he called a 'shop's closed',

without looking back.

He heard a small 'oh',

and someone's feet shuffling the ground,

and his head snapped up,

because _he knew that sound_.

He slowly turned around,

eyes large and round,

chest growing tight,

beyond any fright.

Their eyes clashed together,

and it all sort of clicked,

like a change in the weather,

they were no longer tricked.

Their hearts seemed to melt,

and happiness they felt.

Stiles rushed forward in a snap,

pulling Scott into his arms,

holding him tight like a trap,

joy blaring like alarms.

And Scott was in bliss,

feeling safe in his embrace,

warmth exploding from an abyss,

making up for lost space.

And they held onto each other,

like brother to brother,

the world crackling beneath their feet,

and everything felt utterly complete.

Because maybe, just maybe,

in their time apart,

they found out a bit more,

about what they felt in their heart.

They pulled away,

and Stiles looked deep into Scott's eyes,

millions of apologies and words

fell from his lips

hands braced on his shoulders,

and then he smiled,

and Scott smiled,

and for some reason,

it just felt

so

 _okay_.

And Stiles led him to his table,

and they stayed after hours,

everything became stable,

as they bloomed like flowers.

They talked and they talked,

they ate and they drank,

they laughed an unlocked,

filling in the blanks.

As the night fell around them,

and they rose from their seats,

they felt something on the hem,

guiding through the empty streets.

Stiles walked Scott home,

pressed to his side,

the cold like a dome,

having nothing to hide.

Heat next to heat,

layers next to layers,

Stiles still was so sweet,

like an answer to Scott’s prayers.

He filled up the night,

with his boisterous voice,

the darkness somehow light,

words bouncing in rejoice.

Because he _missed_ Scott,

and now they were back,

and some ropes were still taught,

and their walls had a crack.

But it was on the mend,

the rules began to bend,

and when they walked to his door,

Scott didn't want to be alone anymore.

So he invited Stiles in,

and in did he go,

grinning so bright,

it was a goddamn light show.

Stiles' smiles were infectious,

they always had been,

anything else was contentious,

happiness overflowing from within.

And so the two fell fast

back into a cycle,

each day like the last,

their consistency vital.

As for Scott and Stiles,

they were so very close,

barely leaving each other's sides,

loving every dose.

And there was one day,

as the fog began to clear,

when the sun was at bay,

and something big was near.

This very day,

had started out like the rest,

Scott shooing Stiles away

to work instead of be a pest.

But like every work hour,

Stiles declared it his break,

and ignored Scott's glower,

and his remarks of "that's fake."

Honestly though,

Scott didn't mind,

it was sweet y'know,

Stiles pretending to have time.

And so Scott listened,

as the boy rambled about,

Stiles words almost glistened,

as he neared a loud shout.

He was chewing with his mouth open,

a gross display,

using wild hand gestures,

mind trailing away.

But Scott simply laughed,

shaking his head,

because what even was Stiles?

A puppy instead?

And Stiles pushed his shoulder,

frowning a bit,

sticking his tongue out at Scott,

throwing his peach pit.

From then it became war,

napkins tossed all about,

like children they swore,

words flying up in a spout.

Food littered their clothes,

obscene things being bantered,

and they were so close,

everything so unhampered.

Scott was in fits of giggles,

Stiles hands on his hips,

like a pebble creating ripples,

Stiles connected their lips.

And in a second Scott caved,

wind knocked from his lungs,

kissing back near instantly,

heart hammering like drums.

The world melted around them,

lost in the heat,

and it was all so gentle,

so soft, so sweet.

Their kiss had been passed

millions of times,

between the light touches,

or flickering between eyes.

And it all was crashing down,

because it finally reached their lips,

with so much passion you'd drown,

sparking from their fingertips.

And when they had finally

pulled apart,

they both were breathless,

unsure where to start.

Stiles was smiling softly

(slightly wide eyed)

Scott blushed and grinned

(which he tried to hide).

Stiles laced their fingers together,

and Scott looked up with light eyes,

and it felt like forever,

in that sunrise.

They didn't need to say it,

because they just knew,

but they both did anyways,

" _I_

_love_

_you_."

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading honestly. its so cheesy and fluffy but it makes me happy to read, hope its the same for you! writing stuff too late at night always results in the weirdest works.


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